


Bonds of Brotherhood

by R_S_B



Series: Sins of the Father [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Character Death, Friendship, Love, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 16:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B
Summary: It's easy to imagine why Tom lied about Caldik Prime. But what made him tell the truth?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 in my Sins of the Father series. Owen is still there (and an important influence), but this is a solidly Tom-centric fic. 
> 
> The explicit stuff is in the third chapter. 
> 
> Many, MANY thanks to Sareki and especially to CaptAcorn for all their help and support and editing of this story. For some ungodly reason, I started writing it before I was finished with Cold Comfort, which meant that it has been kicking around, unfinished, for WAY too long. It had to go through a LOT of revision to get it right, and their efforts made it a better story.

The bar stool scraped loudly across the dirty, worn floor of the dingy bar and Tom Paris sat down on it heavily, pulling his long legs up to rest on the rung underneath him. Casting a nervous glance around, he could see that there were few Terrans in the bar, and none exactly looked like ‘Starfleet’ material.

Tom breathed a heavy but relieved sigh. _Thank god._ He couldn't afford to run into anyone from Starfleet. At least not just yet. Rubbing his hands over his face, he tried to push down the nerves that were making his chest clench and his leg bounce. _Just a little liquid courage, Tom. You can do this. For him_.

Finally looking up, he nodded at the bartender. “Give me the strongest thing you’ve got.” Something sickly green was poured into a tall glass in front of him and Tom recoiled at the sight. _Well, bottoms up_.

* * *

“Holy shit, Tom! Do it again!”

Tom Paris grinned. The adrenaline pounding through his veins only heightened his senses: he could hear the sound of the compressors, feel the shift of the thrusters as they adjusted to his commands, could sense the precise passage of time. His fingers flew over the controls, moving so casually it seemed like pure instinct, and that was part of it. But Tom had been practicing in this shuttle all spring and summer, ever since his sixteenth birthday. And it was time to see what this baby could really do.

Tom looked to his right. His friend Charlie Day was strapped in next to him, his face one of pure joy and exhilaration. His brown eyes were wide with excitement, and his short brown curls shown gold and red in the reflection of the diagnostic lights. “I just need to get some more height,” Tom told him.

Charlie grinned back. “Do it!”

The shuttle rose through the clouds at his command. The Paris family shuttle wasn't new or flashy, but it was _freedom_ and Tom had never felt such pure bliss. Once he felt they’d reached a high enough altitude, he nosed the shuttle back downward. His stomach lurched pleasantly and his grin widened.

They dove downward until the shuttle was pointed straight down at the lake, and Tom jerked them hard to port while cutting the starboard thrusters, sending the small class one shuttle into a spin.

The lake quickly grew in front of them as they corkscrewed downward and Tom watched it intently, waiting for the last possible moment to pull up. When the proximity alarm began to blare, Charlie got nervous.

“ _T_ _om…_ “ he moaned in warning.

“Just a little farther… “ The lake was rushing up at them quickly and Charlie shut his eyes, but Tom stared fearlessly ahead. Then he pulled up hard and the shuttle glided just over the surface of the lake, the force of the thrusters shooting water all around them. Tom yelled triumphantly, and Charlie let out a sigh of relief.

“Holy _fuck_ , Paris!” his friend exclaimed. “Are you _trying_ to kill us?”

Tom’s mouth curled into a smile and the shuttle began to climb again, hands moving over the console without glancing downward. “What, don’t you trust me? I’m _hurt_ ,” Tom drawled.

Charlie shook his head in wonder. “You’re a maniac, Paris.”

Tom just laughed, and he dove the shuttle through the clouds. Charlie grinned as the shuttle popped in and out of the clouds, then he turned to Tom hopefully. “One more time?”

Tom whooped triumphantly and took them higher. But this time after he sent the shuttle into the spin, a new alarm started beeping, and they weren’t anywhere near the ground.

_Shit._

“Tom, what’s that?”

Tom didn’t answer. He tried the controls, but they weren’t responding.

_Fuck._

“Tom!” Charlie cried again. “What the _fuck_ is that noise?!”

“The shuttle isn’t responding,” he ground out.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

“Just shut up and let me concentrate!”

His stomach tightened, but his mind was still clear as he ran through his options. A reboot of the console would take at least three minutes, and they didn’t have that much time. He looked quickly to Charlie. “Is your console responding?”

Charlie looked down. “I… I don’t know.”

“Press that red button in the middle. Does it do anything?”

Charlie took a deep breath and pushed. Nothing.

_Fuck_. Only one option left. The lake was coming up quickly now. Almost out of time. _Dad’s going to kill me_ … “Well, don’t say this wasn’t an adventure,” Tom quipped.

Charlie looked at him in terror and opened his mouth angrily, but he didn’t have time to get anything out. Tom had already flipped the cover off the large orange knob in the middle of the two consoles, and he slammed it hard with his palm, dematerializing both of them just before they hit the water.

Charlie stumbled, then his legs gave out under him and he fell to his knees. He looked around in confusion, taking in their new surroundings, the shuttle cockpit having been replaced by the lakeshore. “What the hell just happened?!”

Tom barely heard him. He leaned over heavily, hands grasping his knees and breathing hard. _That was close_ … Giving up on the effort to remain standing, he sat down and ran his hands over his face. Eventually, he realized Charlie was still speaking to him and he tried to focus on Charlie’s face. They stared at each other, both still breathing hard and Charlie repeated his question. “Automatic… beam out. Takes you… to the closest safe… open… area.” Then laughter began to bubble out of Tom uncontrollably. “We’re alive! Ha!”

Charlie let out a surprised huff, then he began to laugh too. Soon, both of them were doubled over in adrenaline-fueled laughter. Tom’s sides hurt by the time he was able to stop, laying on his side on the beach. Finally picking himself up and brushing himself off, he offered a hand to Charlie, who took it gladly.

When he was standing, he shook his head at Tom. “What the fuck _happened_? Why?” he finally managed.

Tom shook his head, the joyful expression of survival tempering. “I don’t know. Something broke. The controls weren’t responding and there wasn’t time to reboot the console.”

“The shuttle?”

Tom shrugged. “At the bottom of the lake now, I guess.”

“Holy shit,” Charlie muttered, a few last nervous giggles escaping him. He looked up, eyes traveling over the tall trees and mountain peaks surrounding them. “So… what now?”

Tom looked around. “Well, the beam out should have triggered an emergency call to the local authorities. And to the house.” Finding a grassy spot, he took a seat and settled in. “So, now we just wait.”

Charlie sat down next to him. “Is your dad home?”

Tom shook his head, trying to appear disinterested. “Dunno.”

“It’ll be okay,” Charlie insisted, already sensing what was going on in Tom’s head. “He’ll be glad to know you’re okay.”

“Sure,” Tom scoffed. “That way he can kill me himself.”

“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad.”

Tom side-eyed his friend. His father was a decorated Starfleet captain, and he had always been obnoxiously pedantic, lecturing the kids regularly on Federation values and ethics. But sometime in the last year, as the application process for the Academy loomed closer, the tone of his lectures to Tom had changed. Tom had barely even seen him in months, since he’d taken a temporary assignment on Mars. But despite the distance, the man made time every day to call his son. Their conversations had been reduced to three topics: reminders of the noble and distinguished history of Parises in Starfleet, detailed evaluations of Tom’s flaws and inadequacies. And warnings about the dire outcomes if Tom dared to make a mistake. The message was clear. Mistakes were for lesser humans; not for Parises.

“Well… maybe he isn’t there.”

“Maybe.”

The two boys fell silent and it wasn’t long before a small shuttle bearing the insignia of the Lake Tahoe-Nevada State Park Service arrived a few dozen meters down the shore. After being checked out by a medic, they were delivered right to the front door of the Paris’s vacation home. The sour feeling in his stomach that had been building throughout the short trip increased dramatically as the house came into view. His father was on the porch, waiting. Whether Owen Paris had received the news from the park service or the automated signal from the shuttle, Tom didn’t know. But it was clear his father already knew what happened. He stood tall, arms crossed in front of him, a sour expression on his face. Even though Tom had recently surpassed his father in height, he felt small, dwarfed by the man’s towering presence.

When the shuttle was gone, Tom approached the house hesitantly. “Dad… ” he began, “something malfunctioned in the shuttle, we--”

“Charlie,” Owen interrupted, not looking away from Tom as he spoke, “go inside. I need to speak to my son alone.”

The knots in Tom’s stomach twisted tighter and Charlie quickly disappeared inside.

His father’s eyes were cold and hard and Tom wanted to crawl under a rock. “I don’t suppose you’d like to explain why you were flying the shuttle without permission or supervision?”

“No, sir,” Tom mumbled, avoiding his father’s eyes.

That had _not_ been the right answer, and it had only gone downhill from there. After Owen was done giving Tom on earful on personal responsibility - _you’re nearly an adult Tom, you can’t make mistakes anymore, if you can’t stand there and defend your actions, you’ll never get anywhere in life!_ \- he moved on to the real lecture - _you could have died, you could have gotten Charlie killed, and then what am I going to say to his parents?_ Tom then followed his father inside and they’d found Charlie waiting nervously in the foyer. The look in Charlie’s eyes told him his friend had heard everything and Charlie had reached for him, giving his hand a sympathetic squeeze. Tom squeezed back.

Later, after Charlie’s mothers had picked him up, Tom retreated to his bedroom to avoid his parents, who could now be heard arguing downstairs. He tuned them out, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling as he replayed his father’s lecture over and over again in his head. But the thing that stuck with him the most wasn’t what Owen had said - _reckless! completely irresponsible! what a disappointment!_ \- it was that his father had never once expressed any relief that Tom had gotten home safe.


	2. Chapter 2

_Reckless… irresponsible… indefensible._

_I guess Dad was right, after all._

Tom slammed his now empty glass down on the bar with a wince. He was _always_ right, of course. Always. Owen Paris didn’t make mistakes. He always knew the right answer. The right thing to do.

Unlike Tom. Tom Paris always did the wrong thing. And if there had ever been any doubt, that was about to corrected.

He twirled the glass on the bar in front of him as its foul taste slowly receded, idly watching the reflected light dance across the dingy bar. Tom wasn’t sure he could handle thinking about Charlie anymore. The pain was still too sharp. _Maybe one more drink. Then I’ll be ready._

Tom nodded in the direction of the alien bartender, and he -- or she? ze? they? Tom realized he didn't know -- slowly lumbered over in his direction.

“Another?”

Tom sneered. “Ugh, no. I'd rather be sober than drink any more of that stuff. And that’s saying a lot.” He shook his head, as though to shake off the last of the taste. “People drink this crap? Willingly?”

The bartender shrugged, uninterested.

Tom sighed. “Do you have any Terran bourbon?”

This time he got a head shake.

 _Of course not_. Tom’s eyes traveled over the alien beverages lined up behind the bar, looking for something -- anything -- he at least recognized. Finally spotting a familiar blue bottle, Tom pointed. “That one.” The bartender gestured questioningly at the bottle to the left and Tom shook his head. “No, the Aldorian Ale.”

The bartender nodded and began to fill a new glass. As the frothy blue liquid filled his glass, Tom remembered the first time he'd tried it.

Somehow it always came back to Charlie.

* * *

Tom was staring morosely at his ceiling when Charlie began pounding on his bedroom door. He ignored the sound, continuing his monotonous count of the ceiling tiles.

But his friend was not easily deterred, and soon Charlie’s voice joined the knocking.

“Tom! Come out! I know you’re in there!”

“Ugh. Go away.” Tom gave up the count and threw a crooked arm over his eyes.

“Come, on, Tommy!”

Tom groaned, then muttered under his breath “Computer, unlock door.”

There was a soft click and Charlie pushed the door open. “Tom, what are you doing? It’s time to celebrate!”

“No thanks,” Tom muttered, turning away from the door and pulling a pillow over his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Paris? This is what you do when you get good news? Pout in your room?”

“I’m not pouting,” Tom muttered defensively. He was facing away from his friend, but he could imagine the eyeroll Charlie was giving him right then. He felt the bed shift as Charlie sat down on the edge behind him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Charlie asked, voice softening. “We just found out we both got into the Academy! Mom actually cried! I think all of San Francisco is going to have heard the news by the end of the day!  And here you are acting like someone kicked your puppy. What gives?”

“It’s nothing,” Tom insisted. “Go celebrate. I’ll see you at school on Monday.”

Charlie sighed. “This is everything you’ve ever wanted! You don’t get to pretend you don’t care. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s up.”

Tom sighed. “Same old shit. Nothing is good enough for ‘The Commodore’.” His father’s lectures had only increased since his promotion.

“What?! But… you got in! You did it! What could he possibly find to critique now?!”

Tom smiled slightly in appreciation of Charlie’s defense. He flipped over to face his friend but didn’t sit up. “Oh, you know how he is. There’s always something he can find.” This time it had been an extensive list of all the changes Tom needed to make to his attitude, priorities, study skills, and general conduct if he didn’t want to flunk out of the Academy on day one. It didn’t matter that the admissions committee had found Tom to be good enough for Starfleet; the dissatisfaction Owen had in his son had been plain. Tom laid down on his back and stared up at the ceiling again. Affecting a tone he hoped came off as aloof and disinterested, he continued, “He really outdid himself this time though. It’s the first time he’s actually lectured me about things I haven’t even done yet.”

Charlie sighed. “I’m sorry your dad wasn’t more excited about the news, Tom. I really am.”

Tom swallowed uncomfortably at his friend’s words and he waved Charlie off. “I’m used to it. You go celebrate, I’m just not in the mood.”

“No way!” Charlie insisted. “I came to celebrate with my best friend and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Tom’s mouth set in a hard line. “Fine. Do what you want. I’m staying here.”

Charlie heaved a sigh, and Tom hoped he’d taken the hint and would let himself out, but instead he started rummaging around in a bag by his feet. Finding what he wanted, he sat down, leaning his back against Tom’s bed. Tom tried to ignore him, but the sound of a bottle opening piqued his curiosity.

“What’s that?”

“Aldorian ale,” Charlie responded casually. “I stole it from Mum. Want one?”

Tom didn’t answer, but he sat up and got out of bed wordlessly, dropping himself onto the floor next to Charlie and holding out his hand. Charlie favored him with a small smile and pulled another out of his bag.

The two sat for a while in companionable silence for a while, sipping slowly from their bottles. The flavor wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it wasn’t repulsive either, so Tom drank it without comment. Eventually, either as a result of Charlie’s comfortingly unobtrusive presence, or the effects of the alcohol, or some combination of the two, Tom finally spoke.

“Nothing I do is ever enough for him,” Tom whispered. “Sometimes I think I should just give up.”

“But you can’t do that!”

Tom glared at his words, but Charlie continued, undeterred. “He’d be miserable! What would your dad even do with himself if he didn’t have something to complain about?”

Tom chuckled despite himself and took another swig of the ale, emptying the bottle.

Charlie took the empty bottle from him and stuffed it back in his bag. “Now, come on. I’ve got more ale. So how about we go hide out in your basement for a while and watch monster movies?”

Tom had to admit that sounded pretty OK. He was about to respond when he felt a sudden and overwhelming wave of emotion wash over him. Only Charlie could know what he needed without asking, and the affection and appreciation he felt for his friend in that moment was almost too much for him. Tom opened his mouth to speak, and he felt tears coming to his eyes. Clearing his throat and wiping at his face while he cursed his body’s betrayal, he tried a second time, only to be interrupted by Charlie.

“I know.”

Tom gave him a relieved smile and nodded. Charlie threw one arm around Tom and reached for his bag with the other. “Now, what do we watch first? _Zombie Apocalypse_? Or _Return of the Swamp Monster_?”

Back on familiar footing, Tom grinned. “Naw, we’ve already seen those. I found a new one. _Attack of the Space Lizards_. It looks _amazing_.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Stupid innocent little fucks_ , Tom thought. _Pouting and drinking stolen alcohol and worrying about fucking nothing_. It felt like a lifetime ago.

And where had that time gotten him? Mildly hungover in a remote shithole, still smelling vaguely of sex. The woman he’d found to keep him company the night before had been nice enough. Not nearly the worst of the men and women he’d turned to in desperation that month. She’d been reasonably pretty, with dark hair and a nice ass. Probably a little older than him. But most importantly, she’d been there when the bar closed and was willing to take him back to her place.

They’d both been drunk, but she was enthusiastic and had achieved exactly what he’d been looking for; when they were fucking, he didn’t think about Charlie once. And when they were done, he’d even passed out before he could think about anything.

* * *

Tom sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes and looking around in mild surprise at a room that was not his own. _Oh yeah. Charlie’s_. He shook his head. Tom had apparently fallen asleep on the couch and the room around him was now dark and quiet, although the dirty glasses and abandoned snacks littering the room spoke to the evening's festivities. The lack of light coming through the windows told him it was still night, and Tom had no interest in getting up and walking all to the way to his own room, in another building on the other side of campus.

He thought about getting up and going into Charlie’s bedroom. This couch had not been made for sleeping, and it was even worse for someone as tall as Tom. But Charlie had been hitting on a man from their Intro to Astrophysics class during the party and Tom worried his friend might not be alone. With a sigh, he tried to get comfortable on the couch again. He pulled his legs up trying to fit, and tried to adjust the cushion to function as a pillow. But he was still cramped, had no blanket, and only a very lumpy “pillow.”

_Fuck it._

Tom got up and stretched his sore, cramped muscles, then padded quietly towards the bedroom. The door opened silently and he peeked in. Squinting in the dark, it looked like there was only one lump in the bed.

_Thank god._

Moving to the bed, he nudged Charlie, who grunted in response. “Move over.” Charlie grumbled but rolled over and Tom slid in next to him. “Your couch is a piece of crap.”

Charlie chuckled sleepily.

“So what happened to Marco?”

His friend groaned into his pillow. “Left. Totally struck out.”

“Aw, poor Charlie,” Tom replied with a grin. He pulled Charlie towards him, curling around the other man’s body.

“Shut up, Paris,” Charlie muttered. “I seem to remember you getting shut down by Alice Battisti just last week. I don't want to hear it.”

Tom chuckled, breath hot against Charlie’s neck. “Does that mean you don’t want company right now?” Then he rubbed his erection against Charlie’s ass, eliciting a strangled groan from his friend.

Charlie flipped over, suddenly awake, and pushed Tom back into the bed. “I didn’t say that,” he whispered, leaning down close to Tom’s face. “I _said_ “shut up'.”

Then it was Tom’s turn to groan, and he reached up to close the distance between them. Charlie’s mouth met his, and Tom returned the kiss with practiced ease, tasting the bitter flavor of alien liquor on Charlie’s lips and tongue.

Tom rolled Charlie over and settled himself on top of him, pressing one knee between Charlie’s thighs and grinding his hip against his friend’s half-hard erection. Charlie’s hand snaked into his boxers, drawing a pleased moan from Tom, and their kisses resumed, more frenzied than before. He felt his cock getting harder in Charlie’s grip and Tom rocked against his hand, desperate for more contact.

His breathing was getting heavy, but he settled for quick breaths between sloppy kisses. Charlie shifted under him, trying to get Tom’s boxers off, and Tom lifted himself up on his hands, trying to aid his friend. Once they were off, Tom lowered himself back down and his still somewhat drunk and sleepy brain realized for the first time that Charlie was already naked. He groaned. “Have I mentioned how much I appreciate it when you sleep naked?”

Charlie groaned. “Have I mentioned how much you need to find something better to do with that mouth?”

Tom grinned in response. “Oh, really? Do you have any suggestions?” he quipped, wrapping long fingers around Charlie’s hardening erection.

Charlie arched up against Tom’s hand. “I think even you can figure that one out.”

Then Tom was disappearing under the sheets and his mouth replaced his hand on Charlie’s cock.

“Oh god, just like that, Tom,” he murmured encouragingly as Tom swirled his tongue around and around. Charlie gasped and his fingers clenched in Tom’s blond hair, guiding Tom further down his cock. Tom took him into his mouth obligingly until he hit the back of Tom’s throat and Tom began to bob up and down on him. Charlie twitched in Tom’s mouth and Tom knew he wasn’t going to last long. “Yes… yes, yes, yes!”

Charlie’s enthusiastic responses encouraged Tom, who continued to lick and suck hungrily at Charlie’s cock, fingers gently tugging on his balls. Then Charlie’s hips jerked and he cried out, fucking Tom’s mouth until he was spent. Tom climbed back up his body and laid down next to him, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“See? I told you, you could find something better to do with that mouth,” Charlie teased.

Tom grinned and ignored him. “Turn over.”

Charlie complied slowly, limbs limp in the aftermath of his orgasm. Tom kissed the back of his neck and gave his ass a squeeze.

“It’s in the drawer. Behind you,” Charlie offered, unprompted. Tom turned and reached back to pull open the drawer. Looking inside, he saw a small bottle of lubricant and grinned.

“Just what I needed.” Tom sat up and squeezed a considerable amount of lube onto his fingers. He stroked himself a couple of times, coating his cock, then laid back down behind Charlie. He pressed two slick fingers against Charlie’s ass, rubbing lube against the tight hole before pressing one finger inside. Charlie hissed in response.

“You okay?”

Charlie took a breath before answering. “Yeah. It’s just been a little while.”

Tom dropped a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Okay. I’ll go slow. Just tell me if it hurts.” Charlie nodded and Tom began to shallowly move his finger in and out. His dick ached, but he forced himself to be patient. When Charlie began to push back on his finger, trying to take him deeper, Tom added a second finger. This time Charlie groaned raggedly.

“Yes… “

Tom’s dick twitched in anticipation, but he continued to wait, working his fingers in and out of his friend until Charlie was pushing back again, impaling himself eagerly.

“On your knees,” Tom purred. He pulled his fingers out and Charlie whimpered.

His friend complied, a little faster this time. Tom knelt behind him, stroking his cock and smearing a little more lube on for good measure. He splayed one hand against Charlie’s lower back and pressed his dick against Charlie’s ass, pushing in slowly. Charlie groaned long and low, face buried into his pillow.

“Oh, fuck, you feel good,” Tom moaned as he disappeared into Charlie’s body. When there was no deeper to go, his fingers tightened on Charlie’s hips. He pulled back and pushed back in experimentally. Charlie made encouraging noises under him and he did it again, a little faster this time. Then again, and again, until Tom was fucking him furiously. Charlie gasped and bucked underneath him and Tom gripped him tighter. “Oh, fuck. Charlie, I’m--” Then he lost the ability to form words.

Charlie slid off of his knees, collapsing onto the bed and Tom collapsed on top of him, limbs and cock limp. His cheek rested against Charlie’s shoulder, damp with a slight sheen of sweat. Tom grunted as Charlie began to nudge him. “Get off, Paris.”

“I just did,” Tom quipped, wrapping his arms around Charlie and trying to settle in.

Charlie groaned loudly and Tom had no trouble imagining the eye-roll that accompanied it. “If you want to sleep here, you gotta scoot over. Otherwise, your ass is back on the sofa.”

“So mean,” Tom mumbled into Charlie’s back. But he rolled off of his friend and the two fell asleep in a tangle of sweaty, satisfied limbs.


	4. Chapter 4

They’d fallen back asleep after that, and when they awoke a few hours later, Tom’s hangover had fully set in. He could still remember Charlie admonishing him for drinking so much of the stuff. _I told you it was strong, Tom_.

Despite that, Charlie had taken care of him, bringing him water and sneaking him a hypo to cure the headache and nausea. Charlie always seemed to know how to take care of him.

_He was always there for me._

Maybe that was what made the night before feel so different from the memory of being with Charlie. In both cases, he’d been horny and drunk and looking for a commitment-free night of fun. _But last night_ … Tom took a large gulp of ale, as though to wash away the memory.

Last night was a distraction at best. Something to pass the time and to occupy his mind until sleep could take him. But nights with strangers, one after another, could only keep his bed warm for so long. In the morning, he was left feeling colder and emptier than he had been before.

His love for Charlie had been special. It may not have been romantic, but that didn’t make it any less strong, any less important to him. His feelings for his friend went beyond anything he felt for anyone else.

And Charlie had felt the same, even as they got older and things started to change. They weren’t always on the same page anymore. Tom couldn’t understand why anyone would want to settle down so young. There was too much - and too many people - to do. But Charlie had. And he’d had a future. With a family.

But now that would never come to be.

A fresh wave of loss rolled over him and he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to block it out. _Just one more_ , he told himself.

“Bartender. Another.”

* * *

The cork of the champagne bottle flew out of Tom’s fingers, and the small crowd cheered as it flew through the air. Tom grinned and began to pour the champagne into glasses. He and the others assembled in Tom’s quarters, five in all, had just received their first promotions, from ensign to lieutenant, junior grade. They’d all started onboard the _Exeter_ at the same time, and two years later were the first group to receive promotions.

“Even your dad couldn’t be disappointed today.”

Tom looked up from the glasses to see Charlie’s grinning face. “Now is _not_ the time for talking about my father, Charlie. Now is for celebrating. And even my father can’t ruin that for me.”

Charlie laughed. “Well, I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“ _We_ deserve it,” Tom corrected, glancing meaningfully at Charlie’s shiny new pip.

Charlie smiled broadly and Tom handed him a glass. Then he turned to the others and cleared his throat. Tom held his glass up, and the others quickly followed suit. “To us! I can’t imagine being part of a better and more deserving group of officers. Congratulations, everyone.”

“Cheers!” Charlie yelled, and the other joined in, glasses clinking, smiles all around.

Tom was seated on the small sofa with a half empty bottle of champagne in his hand, glass long abandoned, when the others started to filter out. After Charlie said goodbye to the last person, he joined Tom on the sofa.

Tom offered the bottle to Charlie, and he accepted, taking a swig before passing it back. Tom took another sip and laid back against the sofa, awash in the warm, fuzzy delight of intoxication and pride.

“Can I tell you something?” Charlie asked.

Tom smiled and turned his head. “Of course.”

Charlie fumbled for something in his pocket, eventually pulling out a small ring box and passing it to Tom. Tom’s brows furrowed questioningly and he sat up, setting down the bottle and taking the small box.

Opening the box, he found two simple gold rings inside, each with two small diamonds set into the band. “Is this… “

Charlie bit his lip and grinned nervously. “The next time we get back to Earth, I-- I think I’m going to propose.” He hesitated. “Do you… do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Of course he will, you idiot,” he responded. Then he looked up at Charlie, finding his warm brown eyes. “He’s crazy about you.” Despite an inauspicious start at that first party, Charlie and Marco had started dating soon afterwards, and had been together ever since.

Charlie smiled and leaned his head against Tom’s shoulder, arms sliding around him and holding him close. They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Charlie poked Tom in the side and gestured for the champagne.

“Sorry.” Tom shifted and reached for the bottle, still on the floor. He took a swig himself, then passed it to Charlie.

Charlie took a sip and leaned back against him. They fell silent again, until Charlie broke the silence again. “Will you… will you be my best man? I want you… to be there with me.”

Tom felt his chest tighten and for a moment it was hard to speak. “I’d be honored.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tom shook himself. He took a shuddering breath and tried to focus.

_Pull it together, you worthless piece of shit._

He stared down at his empty glass. For a moment, he felt a little nauseous, and he couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the knowledge that Charlie never made it back to Earth.

_You have to do this. For him._

* * *

The acrid smoke stung his eyes and Tom instinctively tried to blink it away, eyes immediately beginning to water. He pushed up on an elbow and looked around.

_No. Oh god, no._

Smoke billowed from burnt out consoles. The cockpit was darkened, lit only by the red emergency lights. The smoke burned in his nostrils and the sound of the emergency sirens pounded in his ears. He looked around the cockpit, surprised to see he was alone.

_Shit. Charlie!_

_Where was he?_ Tom tried to stand up, but a sharp pain in his leg stopped him before he started. A brief wave of nausea rolled over him when he looked down at the leg in question. _It is definitely not supposed to bend like that_ … Shifting onto the hip of his good leg, he began to pull himself across the floor.

He vaguely remembered that before they’d crashed, Charlie had been heading towards the back of the small vessel. Tom tried to remember why. When it came to him, Tom froze, staring down at the worn carpet of the cockpit. _No…_

_Tom dove the shuttle nimbly through space, narrowly avoiding colliding with the asteroids outside Caldik Prime. Ensign Jansen had gasped in delight each time an asteroid came close, and Tom had been unable to resist skimming closer and closer. When she grabbed his knee and squeezed, Tom knew he wasn’t sleeping alone that night._

_Lieutenant Nakamura had quickly tired of their flirtations, and had retreated to the back of the shuttle with a pointed eye roll. But she hadn’t put a stop to it._

_Nor had Charlie, who only encouraged him, relating tales of Tom’s most impressive aeronautical feats to Jansen as Tom continued to squeeze the shuttle between narrower and narrower gaps._

_Then he’d come too close. A small asteroid had clipped the back of the shuttle, sending violent tremors through the small ship. They’d gone spinning, the shuttle quickly filling with smoke and shouting and flashing lights and sirens. Nakamura had called Jansen to the rear of the shuttle to try to patch the hole it had torn in the aft section while Tom had struggled to regain control of the shuttle. Then Charlie had headed back to help._

_But Tom hadn’t been able to pull them out of the spin in time to avoid the second, larger asteroid looming in front of them. Then everything went black._

Nausea rolled over him again, but this time it wasn’t because of his injuries. The pressure of his responsibility weighed down on him and for a moment, he wanted nothing but to lay on that singed carpet until death took him. But then he remembered Charlie and he pushed back up onto his elbows and kept going. He _had_ to be okay.

When he looked into the corridor, the full impact of the damage hit him. The entire back half of the shuttle was completely crumpled.

Nakamura.

Jansen.

Gone. Dead. Crushed.

He remembered how Jansen’s dark eyes had sparkled when she laughed. He’d been looking forward to making them sparkle again.

Then he saw a dark shape under the half caved-in bulkheads of the corridor.

“Charlie!”

He scooted as quickly as he could down the corridor to his friend. “Charlie! Come on, buddy. Be alive.” _Please_. When Tom reached his side, he shook the other man, and he stirred a little. “Charlie! Charlie, are you okay?” His legs were trapped under debris, and Tom couldn’t see them. They were probably crushed, but that could be repaired. But Tom winced at the sight of the shrapnel in his side. It was big. Tom’s heart began to sink.

Charlie moaned and turned his head toward his voice. His eyes fluttered open, but he couldn’t focus on Tom. Another noise came out of his mouth, that might have been intended as words, but Tom couldn’t make sense of it.

“Charlie! Can you hear me?”

Charlie moaned again and he blinked, trying to focus. “Tom?” he mumbled softly, “wha… where am I?”

Tom swallowed his nerves and hoped he sounded reassuring. “You’re on the _Faraday_. We were mapping the asteroids near Caldik Prime.”

Charlie looked up at Tom, but his eyes were unfocused and his chest shuddered with his breath. “It hurts, Tom.”

Tom moved closer to Charlie and pulled his head into his lap, one hand cupping Charlie’s face tenderly. “I know it hurts, but you’ll be okay. Help will be here soon.”

He couldn’t be certain if Charlie heard him, but he seemed calmer. Charlie’s eyes slid shut and his breathing eased somewhat. Tom began to look around, desperately hoping some solution would present itself. But the medkits were in the back, crushed or inaccessible. His only hope was that Caldik Prime would respond to the emergency beacon in time.  But looking at the growing pool of blood staining the carpet, Tom saw his hope draining away.   

Charlie’s eyelids fluttered open and he struggled to focus on Tom. “Tom? Why are you here?”

A choked sob escaped before he could stifle it. “I told you. We’re on the _Faraday_.”

Charlie blinked, unseeingly. “Tom, where's Marco?”

“Don't worry,” Tom assured him. “He… he's coming.”

Charlie smiled and Tom’s stomach twisted in a mix of relief and guilt. “Good.” Then he closed his eyes and settled comfortably against Tom.

For a moment, Tom worried he was gone, but Charlie kept breathing, even if it was erratic. Tom watched the irregular rising of his chest, as though he could keep him alive through a devoted enough watch.

 _He was going to live,_ Tom told himself. Things had always turned out okay before. _He couldn’t just die now. He couldn’t._

Charlie coughed, splattering small flecks of blood across his uniform. He winced in pain, and Tom bit his lip, trying to hold off the tears threatening to come. He smoothed Charlie’s hair comfortingly and murmured “it’s okay, you’re okay” at him until he stilled again.

When Charlie regained consciousness for the last time, his voice was so quiet Tom almost couldn’t hear it. “I’m cold, Tom,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Tom kept stroking his hair, and Charlie fell silent again. Then his breathing began to slow and Tom knew they were out of time.

But still, no help came.

When Charlie’s breathing finally stopped, Tom began to cry, his body racked with sobs. They came over him uncontrollably and he curled around Charlie’s inert body. Tears streamed from his eyes and his vision blurred. His hands clutched at Charlie’s uniform. His crying was so loud, he almost didn’t hear the voice.

“Caldik Prime command to the shuttle _Faraday_. We have dispatched a rescue team to your location. Do you have any casualties? This is Caldik Prime command to the shuttle _Faraday._  Please advise.”

* * *

The next thing he knew, he’d been waking up in the Caldik Prime Medical Center. Those first memories were hazy. He remembered climbing unsteadily out of bed and demanding to see Charlie. When he was told that wouldn’t be possible, he’d tried to flee. He just need to see Charlie - why couldn’t they just understand that?! But he’d made it only a few steps before strong hands guided him back to bed. Tom had kicked and screamed, but he felt the familiar press of a hypospray against his neck and then everything was black.  

The second time he woke up he just laid in bed and cried. Some of the medical staff had tried to comfort him but after he screamed at the first two who had tried, the rest had mostly learned to keep their distance and leave him be.  

The third time he woke up, he just felt numb.

Then, when it was time to discharge him, they’d come. Starfleet. A young Lieutenant, not much older than Tom, had arrived at his bedside with new orders: he was to report to the Office of Regulatory Oversight in the morning for a full inquiry into the accident. “It’s routine,” the officer had assured him. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.”

Tom had forced a tight-lipped smile to his face and nodded, but inside he was screaming.

_This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen._

_This isn’t right._

_This isn’t right!_

It had been planned out almost before he’d been born, his career. Excel at the Academy. Take on increasing leadership positions until he had a command of his own. Then make history. Would he distinguish himself defending his people from the Klingons like his great-great-grandmother? Would he help draft a lasting peace agreement with them like his great-grandfather? Would he make first contact with an alien race like his great-aunt? Would he fight the Cardassians like his father?

Maybe something even better! Tom could do it. He was smart, an exceptional pilot, a great leader. That was what everyone had always told him. What his father had always expected of him.

But now it was disappearing before his very eyes. A blemish like this on his record, and he could kiss his next promotion goodbye. All because of what, one stupid little mistake?

That didn’t seem fair.

So in the morning, he’d gotten out of bed, put on a new, fresh uniform, sat down before the investigatory committee, and did what any scared person would do when backed into a corner he couldn’t see a way out of.

He lied.

That had been a month ago. It was easier than expected. They had clearly wanted to believe him. No son of Owen and Julia Paris, especially one with such an exemplary flying record, could have been the cause of such a pointless, unnecessary accident.

But then he went to Charlie’s funeral. He barely remembered it, brain shutting down completely to protect himself from a pain beyond his ability to process. Or maybe it just all the alcohol he’d drunk afterwards, helping to erase memories he couldn’t bear to carry. All he did know was how he woke up the next day: on the floor, head pounding, covered with his own piss.

The rest of the month had been much the same. Drinking until he blacked out, waking up, and starting the process all over again. Anything to stop thinking about Charlie. After he failed to show up to his duty shifts three times in a row, his captain had kindly asked if he needed a medical leave, and he’d gladly accepted.

And now here he was, drinking again in a shitty bar. But this time, things were going to be different. Because there was one force stronger than his guilt, stronger than his father’s voice in his head. It had taken some time, but this voice could not be quieted.

_Charlie deserved better._

_Charlie deserved the truth._

Tom pushed away from the bar abruptly, last drink half-finished, his boots crunching softly on the grimy floor. Reaching into the pocket of his uniform, he pulled out a wad of crumpled local currency. He placed it on the bar and turned away.

It was time.

He might be a little late, but he was going to tell Starfleet the truth.

 _For Charlie_.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
